


we might be dead by tomorrow

by vercna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Marauders' Era, Smut, i'm going all in guys, it starts lowkey angsty then sexy then more angst then fluff, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vercna/pseuds/vercna
Summary: every december is worst than the last it seems, except the ones spent in james potter's arms.





	we might be dead by tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays kids!! i've been working on this for so long and completely forgot about it but still wanted to publish it by christmas time so here it is!! cause what's better than reading smut under the table while your grandparents are serving christmas food and your little cousins are playing pictionary amirite??

**December 1976**

 

A heavy fog settles over Cokeworth when Mr Henry Evans passes away.

The nurse who has been at his side through the last stage of his cancer announces the tragic news to his family after she finishes filing her report. His wife and daughter stand up in unison when they see her walk towards them, a grim expression on their faces. Mrs Evans’ hair is unkept, hurriedly gathered in a low messy bun, strands of white mixing with the golden shade she sports so well. Petunia Evans is tidy as ever, wearing a matching tweed ensemble and humble black heels, the only sign of distress being her shaking hands and red eyes. The nurse notices a new addition to the family, a second daughter she has only heard of in the past three months. In contrast to her sister, the other daughter’s hair is a dark shade of red and let loose in waves down her back. She wears a pair of jeans with a white blouse. She does not stand up with the others. Only looks outside the window of the hospital, arms crossed, her bright green eyes impenetrable.

The nurse accompanies the trio to the late Mr Evans’ room, two of them openly sobbing and rushing to clutch his hand. The third one present does not cry. She tucks a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and takes in the sight of her father’s lifeless body. He seems impossibly small on this hospital bed, decrepit and infinitely weak. _Not weak_ , the girl corrects herself, _dead_. Miles away from the lively man who carried her on his shoulders a little over a year ago. Not the same man who creeped in her bedroom after dinner to ask more tales of her magical school with bright childlike wonder. Her father had always been so enthusiastic about what she could do, so curious, so accepting. When home felt like a burden he had been the glue keeping her grounded.

She wonders how the world must’ve looked to him in his dying breath. Was there a blinding white light, images of his life racing in front of his eyes like a flip book of memories? Maybe an odd supernova of colours, red orange, yellow, green, indigo and violet, each colour casting a bright shining light onto the truths of his life. Did the sun set over an ocean? Was it a jump above fifty feet waves into a one thousand foot cliff? Was it quiet? Painless? Did he think of her? Did he remember?

 

“-Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!”

“-I’m looking Lilypad!”

“-No you’re not!”

“-Am too!”

She was nine years old and the boys at her elementary school made fun of her deep red hair. Petunia used to make them go away, she’d drap an arm around her little sister’s quivering shoulders and hiss at them. But Petunia didn’t so much as look at Lily anymore. And the bullies came charging back.

“-I’m going to do a flip!” Her careless voice rang in the nearby trees of the park she was playing in. She was swinging higher and higher and higher than any kid she’d ever seen. And when she reached the apex, the sweet spot where the top of trees looked like a river of emerald, she let go.

An ordinary child should’ve crashed.

But not Lily.

She simply flew, for a moment, above the rich earth. She felt invincible.

“-LILY!”

Of course it was merely a feeling.

She tried bringing her body forward in a feeble attempt to achieve the flip she’d bragged about all day. But Lily was thinking too much now and the realization she was about to hit the ground in a heap iced her to her core, leaving little room for problem solving.

An ordinary kid should’ve crashed.

But not Lily.

As the sandy soil of the public park got dangerously close to her face, a hand yanked her arm hard allowing her to land roughly on her side, minimizing the damage. The pain however, was indescribable. She was a mess of sobs and cries as her father cradled her up in his arms, rushing to the hospital.

Later that day, once the doctors had fixed her up nicely, as she drifted off to sleep after an emotional day, her father pressed a kiss against her forehead with all the tenderness in the world.

“-Is Mummy angry because of me?” She asked feebly. Her eyelids drooping with fatigue.

“-No Lilypad, Mummy was just worried.” Henry Evans answered, fixing her covers.

“-I heard her yell at you….”

“-Yes, that she did.” He admitted chuckling sheepishly. “Mummy doesn’t think you should do these tricks around town… Y’know your magic.” He kept going, brushing hairs away from her face in a soothing motion.

“-Should I stop?”

“-No, you see, Mummy is just worried for you but I told her ‘Our little Lily is tougher than broken bones!’” Lily laughed. “You’re going to fall many times in life, I need you to always get back up. Can you do that for me sweetheart?”

“-I promise.” Lily had answered.

She was barely ten years old. She did not know these words would come to haunt her at night in the Gryffindor dorm after yet another death eater attack against muggle borns. She did not know her hardest fall would not be a physical one, but of her heart. Dropping down her chest into her stomach as her childhood best friend used the nastiest slur there was against her.

An ordinary girl should’ve cried.

And Lily did.

It took her months to get back up. But her father’s presence had been an unshakeable support.

Without his energy in her world Lily feels impossibly lonely now. She feels herself fade away already, feels a pit grow and expand between her ribcage, a graveyard of memories between her mother, sister and her. She looks away from the grieving duo and out the window, into the pitch black night, where crystallised snowflakes can be seen dancing, flying around in a well rehearsed choreography with the biting cold wind. Amidst this winter spectacle Lily looks at drifting blue and red lights, softened by the fog. She trains her eyes on those lights, her heartbeat matching the ever changing rhythm of the paramedic’s truck parked outside. Her dead father lying a few feet away from her, pale and cold in his death. A single tear runs down her cheek, racing down to her chin as another comes, and another, and another.  Blue, a tear down the right. Red, a tear down the left.

What a life she has been given, she thinks. A blessing but a curse. She’s a witch but not a sister. She’s a best friend but now the enemy. She’s talented but not worthy of her status. She’s a daughter but has no father. All she wants to do is love but all she seems to do is fight.

Lily thinks of Marlene McKinnon, whose cousin has been assassinated -along with her muggle husband- during their honeymoon.

Lily thinks of Benjy Fenwick, whose entire family disappeared one morning, leaving no trace but the Death Mark above their house.

Lily thinks of Demelza Bikkins, who came home last summer only to be killed in a Death Eater attack, never to return to Hogwarts, never to graduate.

Finally Lily thinks of James Potter, who at merely sixteen lost all of his family -save for his mother and father- in a deadly terrorist attack. James Potter, who despite all expectations, found it in him to convey a message of hope during his funeral speech.

 

“- If they died fighting for justice or for peace, then let them stay dead. Let the dead have the immortality of honour, of strength, of morality. Let them pass into the night, with courage in their hearts and the ideal that perhaps, they did good. That perhaps, this was not all in vain. And let the living try to live by that code until, finally, the last enemy who shall be destroyed is death.”

James Potter hadn’t cried during the speech, hadn’t cried during the reception, hadn’t cried when he heard the news either. Lily always found that particularly strange. Until she found him one late october night, red eyes fixed on the burning fire of the Gryffindor common room. That night he told her it helped to focus on something, to let yourself be mesmerized while you cry. It makes it easier. It makes it less real, he said.

Lily hadn’t understood then, but she does now.

 

The blue and red lights outside the window blur into one psychedelic delirium as she sobs, heaves and cries. Her mother wraps her bony arms around her and Lily catches Petunia’s jasmine scent from behind her.

She feels strangely alone in the world.

 

* * *

 

**December 1977**

 

It’s Petunia’s wedding and Lily is studying the fog.

She’s sitting in a church, thunder rumbling, echoing against the high ceilings, shaking the walls in an ancient way. She is not sitting on the front row where family stays. She is not standing near the altar where bridesmaids stay. She is sitting on the third row, where cousins and close friends wait and clap politely. The bride and groom are exchanging vows as rain glides down the high stained glass, making the apostles cry in grief as they carry a heavy cross. Lily feels for them. She is grieving too.

She’s lost a father, now a sister. On the same wretched day. One might argue that said sister had been lost a long time ago yet Lily always silently hoped for a change. Hoped Petunia would find it in her to forgive her sister for living a world away. But Lily doubted even she could move past all the arguments and insults they had been throwing at each other for the past ten years. Life isn’t kind that way and so the fog stays.

The priest blesses the couple and pronounces them man and wife. Guests clap and cheer. Lily stands up with the rest, claps with the rest yet her eyes stay focused on the fog outside, brushing, hugging the stained glass. Something small and shiny, catches her eye. A glimmer of gold swaying in the air outside the church, turning and flying frantically. For the first time since Lily stepped inside that church, a genuine smile appears on her face.

She’s still smiling when the newlyweds walk up the aisle, past her, her sister’s cold teal eyes catching on emerald green. There’s something there, Lily thinks. The ghost of a smile on the corner of their mouths, the secrecy of a look only sisters can share. This will have to be enough.

The sight of Petunia in white, at the arm of a man Lily barely knew sparks something in her. There were times in their childhood when the two sisters got along quite well. There were nights when Petunia would creep in Lily’s bedroom past bedtime with her own covers on her head and her mother’s living room flowers between her hands. She would ask Lily to hold her “trail” and help her up the aisle.

 

“-Why can’t I be the one who gets married?” Lily had pouted one night.

“-Because I’m the older sister and older sisters always get married first!”

“-But why!!!” Lily insisted, red faced.

“-Because older sisters just do!!! Because I can give you advice for your own wedding then!” Petunia replied, in hopes it would calm her sister.

Lily sniffed.

“-Do you really think I’ll get married one day Tuney?” She murmured miserably. “Tommy Johnson said no one would want me ‘cause of my hair.”

In that moment Petunia shone like the older sister she’d always wanted to be, the wise and knowledgeable one whose job was to protect her rash, silly and fiery little sister. She brought her angular arm around Lily’s shoulders, squeezing her tight.

“-Tommy Johnson is a sour little toad.” She offered. “You’ll marry someone a lot nicer and prettier!”

Lily rubbed her red eyes.

“- D’you really believe it Tuney? Sometimes I feel too weird for this world.”

Petunia smiled down on her.  Lily always tries to remember the last time her sister showed her true, unpreceded kindness, she believes that was it. The last authentic smile in their relationship.

“- Then you’ll have to marry someone as weird as you.”

 

There’s a strange boy outside, leaning against the church’s high walls. He seems unbothered by the pouring rain around him, his stare focused ahead, thoroughly observing the sky with intensity. The boy is wearing a nicely fitted suit with his tie undone, his hair however is as unkept as ever for James Potter rarely succeeded in taming the bird nest on his head. He extended his arm to catch the shiny flying ball he’d been looking for but a paler, quicker hand beats him to it.

“- I believe that’s 150 points to me.” Lily’s voice rings through the thunder and church bells.

She’s wearing a green woolen dress that wraps around her chest and falls down to her knees, her deep red hair is left loose on her back and she wrapped herself in a white pashmina. The fog drenches her clothes and soaks her hair. Chills her fingers and weighs heavily in her lungs. Yet she smiles.

“-Betrayed the house colours I see.” James teases, gesturing to her outfit.

Lily hands him the snitch caught in between her cold fingers. “I was told green brings out my eyes.”

James put the golden ball away in his inside pocket. “It does.” He says tugging Lily closer to him by the waist, into his magically dry personal space, away from the torrential downpour and sucks the water off her lips as they kiss. She brings her drenched, shivering body against him, his warmth and smell intoxicating. Nothing is grey anymore, the world is bright and technicolour. With him the fog always seems to clear. The smell of rain hangs on to her hair but James likes it. He removes his hands from the small of her back to cup her neck decidedly, his mouth open and inviting, his hair black as coal between Lily’s fingers. The thunders grows restless above them and James’ impervius spell wavers as Lily closes her lips at the base of his throat. She feels drops of rain start to fall and slide down their figures and she thinks she sees lightning somewhere far off.

“-Shit.” James remarks.

“-Leave it.” Lily groans, pressing her mouth against his once more, bringing her arms around his neck, hugging him close enough to feel his heartbeat through his soaked shirt. She melts into him, like wax against a raging fire, molding herself completely to his demands and she doesn’t care. She does not give a flying shit if she seems desperate, if she’s giving too much too soon, if she’s being reckless by snogging her boyfriend senseless against the church her sister got married in moments ago, in the pouring rain. They could get hit by lightning for all she cares. James’ hands are cold and fumbling against her neck, prying the material of her dress away just enough so he can cup her breast while his other hand ventures dangerously low. Lily cries out, the sound of it drowned by torrents of rain. James buries his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing her in deeply, pressing his crotch against her. Lily feels the lustful bump against her thigh and shivers while pushing her hands into his wet hair. James groans and gives up trying to access her chest focusing all his attention on teasing her over her tights. Tingles race down her spine as Lily squirms against him, suggestively rubbing her inner thigh against his crotch. She kisses him behind the ear.

“-Would you mind terribly if we ditched this wedding and fucked in my car?” Lily hears herself whisper in half agony.

She feels rather than hears him chuckle. He untangles himself from her just slightly in order to look in her eyes. James Potter’s bright curious hazel eyes betrayed most of his persona. Lily prides herself on being able to read him. Something about his brashness, his loudness is tempered out through those eyes, there resides a certain sweetness and innocence Lily can’t phantom. He’s too good for her, she thinks.

James presses a kiss to her forehead and clears out damp strands of red hair from her face.

“-I can’t believe I’m refusing sex with Lily Evans but you’ll regret it.” He offers softly.

Lily raises her eyebrow in mockery, playfully running a hand down his chest and below his belt. James closes his eyes, his hands trembling imperceptibly against Lily’s cheeks.

“-It’s your sister’s wedding reception. We can’t ditch.” He pushes through, biting his lower lip hard as Lily grazes his zipper. She sighs.

“-You’re right.” Lily lets her head fall against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“-Nothing to apologize for.” He bumps his nose against hers playfully. “Please remove your hand before I explode.” James smirks at her with darkened eyes. She offers him an apologetic smile.

“-C’mon,” He gets himself off the church’s wall, away from her figure. “I want to see this Vermin.”

“-It’s Vernon.”

“-Not to me it isn’t.” James offers her his hand to hold. She takes it but not before casting a drying spell on both of them, and another one on James and his… indiscreet situation. The rain finally came to a stop at one point Lily had failed to notice. Beams of fluorescent sunlight gleam through sparse clouds now as the couple make their way back to the front of the church, where family and friends are still taking pictures.

Lily looks over to James, painted gold in the timid scattered drops of light. He’s introducing himself to the guests with confidence, shaking hands and sharing jokes. She smiles fiercely to herself, watching the fog drift across the sky and away from her heavy heart.

She feels less strange in the world with him by her side.

 

* * *

 

**December 1978**

 

There are times when the fog rolls in and won’t leave for days.

Lily sits on the edge of a destroyed curb, blood slowly dripping from the side of her face, hands fiddling with her wand, still warm from the fight. She tries to see through the endless and wet grey. She wants to describe it in a poetic manner, she wants to see the good, the hopeful about this situation. But she can scarcely feel glad to be alive.

If James were here he’d hold her and tell her they made it, this is a fight they can win, they can conquer this hatred. That perhaps, this is not all in vain. But James was ordered to apparate the shaken victims to their houses, he refused at first, not letting Lily -quiet, tearful Lily- out of his sight. But Dumbledore had insisted and then, Lily had insisted he go as well.

A St Mungos nurse approaches her, to treat the burns crisscrossing her arms and the bloodied mess on her temple. Lily lets her. She’s focused on the dancing lights of the St Mungos tent. Red and blue. Waltzing across her vision, dancing in the air like the decadent, perverted doom she can smell, tickling her nostrils while snowflakes gently rush down onto the pavement. One nestles in the crook of her neck sending light shivers down her spine. The world spins slowly around her.

The nurse works quickly and quietly. The tip of her wand is warm against Lily’s temple and soon the blood and burns are but a distant memory.

“- All better now.” The woman states with a sympathetic smile before rushing off to the next bruised up victim.

Better.

How easy it is to throw that word like a wrench into the machinery of life and jam every cog. How insolent and simple. Week by week the number of muggle borns and muggles found murdered increases, aurors and civilians alike pick a side, the newspapers can’t be trusted with delicate informations, the Ministry is useless, the Order ask sacrifices Lily nearly kills herself to make. And all for what? She’ll turn up dead eventually, so will everyone else. One day she’ll have nothing left to give but her life. One day she’ll be dust and bones under the ground and no one will care for her sacrifices. She is so tired of it all. She craves the sun, she’s seen colours sweeping in the mist, tilted her head and watched them disappear. Her boy is not a man, but he acts like one. He has the frown of war painted on him and the incredulous hope that comes with.

And yet miraculously, absurdly, no matter how hopeless it all seems, the world carries on.

The first night they saved a life was back in August. They felt drunk on adrenaline. James had kissed her, his lips the crushing weight of history and dizzy lightness of victory. The champagne bubbles on his breath exploding in her mouth, down her limbs, into her soul. They came home to their tiny flat a mess of fumbling limbs, crashing against walls in the midst of passion, knocking pictures used to cover the chipped paint off the walls.

“-You’re alive.” James had mumbled against her lips, his two hands cupping her face so strongly Lily feared he wouldn’t let go. Or feared he would. She could no longer tell where her body ended and his began. “You’re alive.” He repeated, pushing her top down to expose her collarbone, pressing kisses against her neck, groaning desperately. “You’re alive.” He kept saying as he pressed her against the closed door of their bedroom, cupping her breast with one hand, his mouth on the other, tongue swirling and teasing her nipple. She bit back a muffled cry as he said it again, and again, and again, kissing, licking his way down her body, until his fingers pushed her underwear aside and his lips closed around her. Lily echoed his words as he rubbed and licked the most sensitive part of her. “You’re alive.” She said as she grabbed his hair with one hand, the other fumbling to hold on to something, anything. She was panting. It was agony. This burning fever. It was bliss. This starlight explosion.

When morning came so did an owl from Dumbledore with explicit orders, but it did not matter. They were alive. Exhausted and shaken under sand cotton sheets, sprawled against each other skin to skin but alive nonetheless.

A figure comes to sit down next to Lily on the destroyed curb. She likes it here, thinks of it as strangely comfortable. The man lights a cigarette, takes a long contemplative drag then offers it to his neighbor.

“-You really ought to quit mopping.” He says.

“-You really ought to quit smoking.” She fires back, taking a light puff herself, exhaling shakily. The smoke is not as harsh as it first was, the aroma of cedar faintly settling in.  

The man smirks and bobs his head slightly. She sucks again, this time holding the smoke in her mouth for a moment, only to exhale and gaze skyward, watching the smoke run and disperse away from her into the night air. She extends her arm to give him back the cigarette.

“-Keep it,” He says already lighting another one between his lips. “You look like you need it.”

Lily gives a low chuckle, turning her head to face him for the first time. Sirius has a deep gash on the side of his face that comes all the way down to his chin. His hair seems to stick to the dry blood.

“-You have something on your face.” Lily says blandly.

“-I’m doing something about it can’t you see,” Sirius gestures to the hair coating the wound. “Made my own bandage.”

“-The nurse is just over there you should call her.”

“-I will, I just don’t want her seeing me smoke, what with the blood loss and all.”

Lily nods very seriously, as if she agreed with the idea that physical health comes second to a primarily deadly innocuous-looking and short lived habit. She presses the cigarette to her lips, sucks on it letting the smoke fill her blackened lungs. Black with pain, sorrow and loss -the ever changing pace of life an exercise that left her bruised and breathless. She was rushing down a hill towards an empty grave but it felt like running up, burning her heart her legs her lungs at a slow merciless rate. It hurt to fight, it hurt to cry, it hurt to live, it hurt to die. She was weary and bone tired of it all. She would finish this cigarette and bury herself in a dirt bed, in between grass sheets and a starless sky. Lily exhales and watches the smoke fill and glide through the air, forming twirls and shapes against snowflakes. Maybe she does understand Sirius after all.

“-James will be back in a few,” He informs, tapping his pocket where their matching enchanted mirrors usually resides. “Told me just now.” He takes another drag. “Then he can take you home and shag some life back into you.”

“-Shagging me will have to do I s’pose then.”

Sirius snorts, flicking the butt of his cigarette into a pile of debris.

“-C’mon Evans,” He grunts, getting up on his feet. “I’d volunteer but I’m afraid this baby is infected.” He points his finger at the right side of his face.

Lily laughs, the motion almost unusual.

“-As if I would accept!” She yells at his back walking away from her and towards the whirling blue and red lights of St Mungos makeshift tent.

Sirius does not answer, nor does he turn around, only raises his hand in a rude gesture. Lily shakes her head.

“-Is Sirius offering his body again?” A warm voice inquires from behind her. “Y’know, one day you’ll just have to say yes.”

Lily turns and stares at the newcomer.

“-I suppose… Although he smells a bit like a wet dog doesn’t he?”

James plumps himself down to the curb, next to her.

“-It grows on you.”

“-Hmm.”

Lily kisses him on the cheek and rests her head against his shoulder, the unfinished cigarette still burning between her unmoving fingers.

“-Smoke?” She offers, their feet stretched out in front of them. He shrugs and accepts the cigarette. The sky yawns above them, frosted with stars. James drags his lips around the yellowing edge, inhaling the smoke, releasing it gently into the night. Twirls and twirls fading into nothingness, he takes her hand. It sends tremors underneath Lily’s skin, gently waking something inside her. Lily closes her eyes. Maybe this was not all in vain after all. How can she explain something she can’t even speak? The fatigue that came with yearning for him, how it seemed to erase the stars, the moon, the entire blinding expanse of the galaxy hanging above them. As if she were a stream rushing towards a black hole.

“-How did it go with the victims?” She asks, distracting herself.

“-Same old, same old.” He rubs a hand across his face. “Tried giving them some of the Order t-shirts Sirius and I had made, surprisingly refused.”

“-You really need to get rid of this stock.”

“-Maybe we could open a shop.”

“-And what would an establishment owned by James Potter and Sirius Black sell apart from flamboyant t-shirts of a secret undercover association?”

James grins. “-Booze and hair products.”

Lily’s eyes twinkle in response, she shoots him a lopsided smile. He gives her hand one gentle squeeze. Around them, snow drifts from the sky, the incandescent body of the stars gleams down on them, the Healers and Aurors running around the crime scene. In a strange slow motion Lily sees it all for one second. Their section of the street looks like an unfinished painting, covered in a thick blanket of snow, footprints crisscrossing each other around a labyrinth of paths. Aside from the brown of the denuded trees, the only colours vibrating against the night are the blue and red hue of the St Mungos officers tending to the wounded. Lily’s breath is pale against the numbing air and she blinks thoughtfully as the frost kisses her face like a tentative lover, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sits heavy on her eyelashes. James gazes at her intently with all the softness and warmth of a lover about to break.

“-Let’s go home.” With newly found agitation James stubbs the cigarette onto the pavement beneath them. She watches the embers disappear.

Snow crunches under their feet as they stand up in unison. James brings his arm around Lily and apparates them quickly out of the destroyed street, away from the shattered asphalt concrete and in front of their small apartment. The door is scratched and dented with chipped brown varnish, it has a brass colored lock and doorknob. It feels like home somehow.

The air around them feels thick, charged with electricity, maybe it’s the adrenaline of the fight finally settling in, maybe it’s just gratefulness for being alive but a fresh energy seems to emanate from James. He doesn’t open the front door, only turns to face Lily, touching her elbow and catching her eye. She looks back at him. His fingers slowly trail against the nape of her neck. Lily’s arm hair raise in anticipation as she feels his hot breath grazing her throat, his hands clutching her hips.

“-Are you okay?” He asks nestling his nose against her cheek.

“-Better now.” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him closer to her.

James kisses her passionately, with lust, with despair, with everything he has. He circles his arms around her waist, while she wraps her legs around him, kissing him back feverly. He traps her body against the malady brown door of their flat, pushing his flushed chest against hers with a grunt. His palms slid over the soft skin of her inner biceps and forearms -it runs through Lily’s mind that she forgot her coat at the crime scene- stopping at her wrists to lace his fingers between hers and press her hands roughly into the wall above her head. He recoils from her lips for a second, their noses barely touching. Lily’s breath is hitched inside her throat and she archs herself into him in reply. A silent plea for him to touch her. She moans his name.

He licks the spot behind her ear she likes so much, rocking his hips slowly into hers so she lets out a quivering gasp. Unbuttoning her shirt at an excruciatingly slow pace, savouring every little spot of skin it unveiled to him. James’s lips work their way across her jaw and down her throat, nipping at her skin, leaving red marks and trailing over them with his tongue. Lily sets a furious pace in return, her lips pressing urgently to James’ as she grasps his head in both hands, holding him close and giving him no other option but to kiss her back. She feels the semblance of a cold wind against her exposed stomach, her nipples hard through the thin lace of her bra, something James doesn’t fail to notice. He quickly runs his calloused hands up her back and unclasps it in one swift motion. Just as he is about to tear it free, a door creaks open on their left, interrupting their graphic scene.

“-Hum, good evening Mrs Pearson.” Lily’s voice squeaks from in between James’ arms.

The old lady -and coincidentally their next door neighbor Mrs Pearson- is a widowed squib with very little to do to fill her days, except take her dog Norris for a walk during nights such as this one.

The woman doesn’t so much as look twice their way before making her way past them and down the stairs, mumbling to herself incoherently.

“-Have a nice evening!” James calls out to her, barely able to contain his laugh.

Lily shoves his shoulder lightly, giggling herself.

“-We should probably get inside.” She suggests, untangling herself from him in a rather awkward fashion, with one hand struggling to keep her bra in place.

James taps his wand three times against the door knob of the door murmuring incantations. Alohomora simply wasn’t safe anymore. The door is barely open before James yanks her inside, kicking the door closed in one motion, ripping her bra off of her as her back hits their small dining table, nearly kneels and takes her breast into his mouth. His tongue circles her nipple and his fingers skim up the sides of her breasts while his teeth lightly graze the sensitive skin there causing her to arch into him more. Lily’s eyes roll to the back of her head, barely noticeable in the dark of their flat, the silver glow of the moon through their kitchen window basking them in a translucent light. James lifts her hips to the table, propping her on it properly as he settles between her thighs, abandoning her chest, instead working on the buttons of her jeans. He leaves a wet kiss against her navel as he strips her down to her underwear, dragging her jeans down over her legs -she gasps audibly when the cold temperature caresses her bare skin, the absence of his mouth against her leaving her cold and begging for more.

“-James.” She sighs, propping her elbows against the hard cold marble of the table.

“-Shh.” His hand runs up her torso, relaxing and rousing her up. He struggles quietly to remove her shoes and she giggles. Soon enough she is sprawled on the marble table in only her knickers and open blouse with James kneeling in front of her, kissing his way up her legs -leaving hot, heady, open mouthed kisses all over. Lily’s hands are now grasping handfuls of James’ black hair, nails digging in probably a little too hard, mirroring his against her backside as he shifts the cotton material of her underwear aside and gives her one heavenly stroke. Lily’s hands tighten on his scalp.

“-This needs to come off.” He grunts against her inner thigh, the faint stubble on his jaw ticklish and quickly discards the knickers on the floor. James lifts one of her legs up on his shoulder, circling his arm around her as the tip of his nose drags over her navel, breathing her in, and down to nib on her center, sending waves of pleasure in all her extremities. His other hand lays flat on her stomach, keeping her down as she squirms in pleasure under his mouth, groaning and cursing. She feels him and his magic everywhere. In her toes, in her fingers, inside her, against her thigh, in the cold air brushing over her hardened nipples. It’s all him, him, him. It’s swallowing her whole, this need, this constant want. Her legs tremble as his mouth works against her, with his two hands he slides her closer to him, burying himself between her legs and Lily can’t stop the feeling coming over her. She lets go.

She silently stills as a crashing wave of intense pleasure washes over her limbs. She fists his hair continuously as the pleasure echoes inside her whole being. She whimpers his name as he licks her clean, biting, kissing the inside of her knee, her inner thigh, her stomach, her panting chest, her neck, her lips.

Lily’s hand are hungry, demanding as she pries him up and closer to her. She kisses him hard on the mouth, her tongue slipping and tasting the salt on his. He moans softly in response, hands hurriedly slipping her opened blouse off her shoulders at once, stepping between her bare and open legs. Lily’s hand falls between them, brushing against the front of his trousers.

“-Lily.” He whispers breathlessly.

Her hands come up to cup his face gently. “I love you so much James Potter.”

She leans forward to kiss him, closing the small distance between them, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, flushing her naked body against him, pushing one heel against the inside of his knee to feel his covered erection against her. James groans as her tongue flickers against his lips, hands gripping her bottom so tightly it might bruise, letting their kiss grow until their breaths are ragged.

“-I love you so fucking much.” He laments against her mouth, his growing arousal rubbing against her and he hisses as she rocks her hips against him more vehemently. She grins, trailing a hand under his shirt, nails scraping against his flushed skin sending tremors and tingles throughout his entire being.

“-This needs to come off.” She says, echoing his earlier words. Lily’s hands hastily tear at the buttons of his shirt while James shrugs it off, tossing it to the floor. She feels his hard-on twitch against her stomach when she presses herself against him, feeling his groan reverberate in his whole body, muscles flexing underneath hot skin. Lily presses a trail of sweet, wet kisses on his collarbone, down to his chest as her hands work on the button of his jeans, she tugs on the pants harshly bringing down his boxers by the same occasion, freeing all of him at last and taking him into her hand, working him up and down. James’ hands come up to hold her head, bringing his mouth down to hers once more, his teeth sinking into her lower lip. They moan in unison when she slowly rubs her thumb across the wet tip of his erection, James a second time when Lily makes a show of licking the inside of her palm before taking a hold of his throbbing length once more. She stands up and off the marble table, ready to kneel and take him into her mouth but James’s hands turn her around roughly, bending her over the table, her backside against him.

“-Please… Just- Let me.” He whispers against her ear, his hot hand brushing her back tenderly, his mouth following suite, keeping one of his hand on her hip at the same time. Lily lets out a sigh that turns into a heavy moan as she feels the stiffness of his member against the back of her thigh. She hears him shuffle for his wand and mutter the contraception spell under his breath, she archs her back against him as she waits, a feeble chuckle escapes James’ lips as she does so. James’s arms are propped on the white marble of the table, he leaves a tender kiss below Lily’s ear while simultaneously pushing inside her. He keeps his thrusts measured and slow, rocking back and forth against her tenderly, cherishing every bit of her, brushing damp hair away from her neck and back to leave bruising kisses along her spine.

Lily lets out a cry at the sensation of James’s hand slowly sneaking between her and the table to tease and circle her core even more as he keeps on driving into her. She straightens her back slightly, her arm reaching behind and wrapping around James’s neck as his speed increases, hitting her in all the right spots, drops of sweat sticking from his chest to her back. His mouth catches hers messily, their breaths mingled and erupted against one another as James moves faster, taking her in hard, shallow strokes. She hears the small sounds erupting from his mouth as he tries to remain in control, whispering incoherently. James speeds up, searching for their release, his arms struggling not to collapse on her as waves of intense pleasure wash over them in tides. Everything is shadows and flashes of light, smoke and fog mixed together in an iridescent mist. Lily’s muscles clench and tense around his shuddering figure, a raging fire glowing, burning in her heart into the silvery night, as both of them let go into bliss, still as the night in silent, ecstatic pleasure.

They fall back down on the white marble of their kitchen table, in a mess of trembling limbs, their skin sticking together with sweat. Both breathing loudly for a few minutes, James props himself off before his dead weight can get uncomfortable, choosing to instead sit on the cold marble edge, as Lily keeps trembling slightly in pleasure.

“-You do realize this is where we eat our dinners?” Lily breathes, shuddering at the sensation of James removing himself from her.

“-Eh, at least I finally ate something good at this table.” He answers with a grin, lightly smacking Lily’s backside.

She turns around smiling. “-Twat.”

Lily positions herself next to him to mess up his eternally tousled hair. He grabs her wrist, tugging her closer to his chest, eyes closing, the edge of a smile still on her lips she feels him press a kiss into her hair.

They stay like that for a while, against the table where they just made love, facing the moon in all its luminescent beauty, cheeks flushed with pleasure. Lily’s hand tracing patterns on James’s broad chest absently, sometimes grazing, sometimes adventuring lower than expected, her fingers twisting against the small trail of hair on his lower abdomen -that gets her a bit of a reaction. Her hand is rubbing his back distractly when she feels a patch of rugged skin under her fingertips, the sensation different and foreign. Lily knew James’ body like her own, this was new.

“-What’s that on your back?”

James visibly winces. “Nothing to concern yourself with…” He starts slowly. “Bellatrix was trying to get Sirius.” He adds sheepishly.

Lily gasps audibly as she turns James around to examine his back. Tentatively she reaches and touches the spot between his ribs where, indeed, the mark of a deep burn circles his midback, James tenses up beneath her touch breathing sharply through his nose.

“-Does it hurt?”

He hesitates for an instant. “No… It’s not agreeable but it’s bearable.” He winces slightly when her nail accidently grazes the fresh, red skin. “You would know…”

“-What do you mean?” Lily turns him around to face her, his face is closed, lips in a firm line.

“-I saw the scars on your arms.”

“-So?”

“-I can’t bear it Lils.” His words are spoken through clenched teeth. He takes a step away from her and the table.

“-Is that why…?” Lily takes an hesitant step towards him but retracts. “Is that why you wouldn’t let me go down on you?!”

James stays silent, simply staring out their kitchen window into the silver night.

“-James please…”

His next words cut a hole in her heart.

“-I love you so much I can’t bear seeing you hurt.”

With that, Lily crosses the few steps separating them and wraps her arms around James’ middle, pressing a kiss against his shoulder blades, breathing him in deeply. She could feel his heart beating, she could hear hers, she could hear everything James was made of. And while her heart was melting inside her chest and she knows, _she knows_ , and recognizes the pain and worry in his strained voice or the glinting tears in his eyes, she says:

"-That's not your choice to make sadly." Lily brushes her lips between his shoulder blades. She notices him closing his eyes in the reflective surface of the window. "Just like I can't ask you to not take blows for Sirius anymore."

"-She was going to kill him-"

"-I know" Lily interrups smoothly. "I know. And it's hell, cause I selfishly wish you wouldn't care, I wish I didn't care." She removed her hands from his middle, tugging him gently around to cup his face with her hands. "But we do care. And we're both bloody morons if you ask me but that's just it, isn't it?"

James's hand went to cover her right one stroking his cheek, kissing her palm then the soft skin of the inside of her wrist. His lips trailed their way across the burns the St Mungos nurse has treated earlier. He stopped at her elbow, nestling his nose against it, exhaling deeply. 

"-Let's shower." He presses one last kiss to her arm. "I love you." 

Lily echoes his words like a mantra as they make their way down the unlit corridor leading to the small crooked bathroom of their appartement. She repeats the words while James checks the water temperature. She means those words to reassure but it seems to only set him off so she stops. This had been inevitable since the day they first joined the Order, they both knew that back then, the knowledge of it crushing down on their lungs now. It always had been just a matter of time before they had to fight and kill and survive. Before they had to make choices and stand by those. Die for your friends and kill for your friends and cry in each other's arms. 

They shower quickly and silently. The exhaustion and adrenaline of all the fighting and fucking suddenly settling in under the form of dropping eyelids and yawns and lazy kisses against wet skin. James carries Lily into their tiny bedroom, depositing her small naked frame under the fresh covers of their bed, the sun is rising somewhere behind the quilt of clouds and the fog outside rolls starkly. The darkness of the room seemingly distancing itself from the couple, held away by two thin ropes of coral sunlight coming through the silts of their blinds. Lily feels rather than sees James shuffle under the covers with her, hugging her body closer with one trembling hand his skin still soft and damp from the shower. Lily covers her eyes, cover her ears, buries her face in her pillow but still the darkness wouldn't close in on her completely. Her head is heavy and foggy with sleep deprivation but she lays awake and aware.

 

Somehow the fog always found her.

After a few minutes of tossing, turning and groaning James shifts her closer so that he can murmur reassuring words and kisses against her wet auburn hair. Lily remains conscious just long enough to feel his hand move over her hips, over her belly and the cusp of her breast. She feels his chest pressed against her back, his lips on her shoulder; and then all is black, all is silent and soft. 

The fog a long forgotten thing here in James's arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this please let me know! leave a comment or kudo it means a lot! merry christmas and happy holidays to all!


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